Page 127 of Florescentia

I knew this was goodbye for my father. We had all anticipated it for a while.

What I hadn’t prepared for was saying goodbye to them both.

And I had to make my own closure, for their own good.

It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what they needed. My father was no longer in any pain or distress; my mother would not be left behind to suffer his loss. They were together, and that was enough.

They took each other’s hands. They both were at ease, their bodies gravitating toward one another as they walked away. Their figures got darker and darker as they left the light of the bonfire, their mouths moving as if catching up after a long week. Until they were no more, and the last image of them remained in my mind.

I couldn’t let the bittersweetness overpower me. The more I accepted their absence, their peace, the clearer my head would be. And by extension, I had one more piece of closure to remedy. Dorian might not be here, or in any mythical heaven, or existing as a star in the sky—but it brought me comfort knowing that he was not lost either. Passing would mean he’d become a part of the stars, the things he’d always wanted to know. It was the best scenario, as I feared he would not find peace if he knew what had happened, why I was here, and what I still had to face.

And I had one more thing to face. A beast.

After my parents departed, the distractions suddenly became more intense.

The costumes multiplied in an exhaustive display of ribbons, gems, and masks. A harpsichord lured the crowd into a dance. The flame of the bonfire grew, and every sense heightened. The smell of all-too-perfect food, a perfectly comfortable temperature beside the fire that wasn’t too hot or too cold, crowds that parted when I walked through, the way everyone was perfectly content—all impossibilities for any large party.

A puppet show just for me.

Ting!

The bells again. They tickled the inside of my ear. Ignoring the surrounding distractions, I looked to the sky. The stars twinkled, the moon was still. People danced around me, their movements all too synchronous.

I raised my hand, the stones of my sleeve glittering like moonlight on rippling water.

Then the bells again. Chiming softly in my ear like the smallest of cries, a call for something the opposite of the void I’d felt before. A call to enlightenment, the spark before a fiery inspiration.

Hairs rose on my nape, a tickle that skated across the skin.

What felt like a breath at the back of my neck. I thought for sure I could hear an exhale. I turned to see the same dancing masks, the fire roaring, merriment being made without me.

Among the bodies, among the flames, the flash of gilded wings from across the grounds.

I stepped aside, slowly circling the bonfire. The mob parted like oil on water.

The wings moved, too, opposite to me with the heart of the feast between us, the light dancing, only allowing short glimpses.

Then the figure stopped, and so did I.

The bonfire died down, just enough to see him.

A golden mask with wings by the ears, bronzy hands covering the eyes, with a patronly halo above. The costume had wings tucked around the shoulders, crossing in front of the chest. The rest was finely tailored and embroidered with golden beads that flickered in the firelight. Black gloves covered the hands, metallic claws capping the fingers.

Behind him, six more wings, a horaltic pose as they postured themselves out.

I stayed put.

We were trapped in a stalemate, neither one of us willing to make any more moves. By now the game was tired, the push and pull beginning to fray the rope between us at last.

He hesitated—I would remember that.

He sidestepped, moving along the fire, clownish theatrical players dancing around him as if he weren’t the maestro to this orchestration.

As he grew closer, those final instincts of self-preservation kicked in.

A twist in my stomach that wanted me to run, that recognized a predator’s advance.

He stopped before me, toe to toe.